The Door in the Den
by Ice Demon Allysandra
Summary: Heba discovers a strange door in the new house his family has moved into and there are two men there who want him to stay and be their Aibou. Monarchshipping, eventual Mobiumshipping. Other details: Mature.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: This is a reboot of a story myself and my fellow author SilverGoldDragon so please pop over to her profile for the original and even more delicious goodies she has written. We do not own Yugioh in any shape or form. And now sit back, relax, and fall back into the Shadow Realm for a creepy, kooky, and a little spooky (with a dash of romance) story.

Prologue

A young boy lay in his bed—no, it wasn't his bed. It looked like his bed, but it was different, just like everything in this world—a twisted version. The men here were nice, but…strange. They looked alike, though one was pale and the other deeply tanned. Their eyes were a fiery, devilish red—not seen in

a normal person—and strangest of all…they had a child. He wasn't too sure what the relationship was: the men called themselves brothers, but they seemed too close, and they treated the child as if he were their own. Nonetheless, they were still nice: they gave him toys, gifted him with treats, played games with him, and did whatever he asked. Even so, deep down…he knew something was very wrong.

Seto climbed from his bed, carefully so as to not wake the talking, moving toys that would trigger an alarm and alert the men, and grabbed a black, iron key from the bedside table before exiting the room. He stealthily crept down the stairs, determined to get to the den of the house—there, he could use the key he'd stolen from the men to sneak out through the door that would lead him home and lock it from the other side. He was confident that he could escape: the sleepy silence of the house was an encouraging sign that no one was up and about.

Then, he froze.

A light was on in the den. Damn! They're awake! Or maybe they just forgot to switch the lights off? Yes, that must be it, he convinced himself with a nod as he approached the den. However, that hope soon disappeared as he could hear the men conversing and the child speaking in his toddler talk. There was no way he could escape with them around. He knew he should've returned to his room immediately, or the men would've noticed him—they had demonstrated acute senses of hearing in the past—but curiosity got the better of him, and he peeked inside. The room was filled with all sorts of toys that were scattered about the child's playpen: dolls, plushies and puzzles to name a few. The men and the child sat huddled on the sofa: the tanned man sank into the comfort of the cushions; the pale man lay on his back with his feet in the other's lap; and the child was cuddling him in his embrace.

"Are you ready to get rid of him?" the tanned man asked nonchalantly. "Or do you want to play the game some more?" Seto muffled a gasp of shock, fear and confusion rushing through him all at once. They wanted to get rid of the child? Why? The pale man gently ran his strangely long nails through the child's hair, who giggled and cooed at the touch. "The boy has been here long enough, love," he spoke. "It's about time we closed the door until the next one comes." He gazed lovingly at the child in his arms, who was tugging at the crimson tips of his crown of black hair with one hand and fiddling with his golden bangs in the other. This strange hairstyle, Seto noticed, was shared amongst the three. Surely the child was related to them somehow? A nephew, perhaps? He was soon pulled out of his thoughts when the tanned man spoke once more.

"That may be so, habibi, but how do we get rid of him?" he asked, taking the child from his brother's arms and placing him in his lap, hugging him tightly. "He's already attached to us." The pale man sat up and stroked the other's cheek tenderly. "He is afraid," he said with assertion. Then, his eyes darkened as his lips curled. "Getting rid of him will be an easy task, as all things from the mortal world are foolish and always afraid." His sinister demeanor vanished at once, and he kissed the other man on the lips and giggled, "Am I right, love?"

They cannot be brothers, Seto thought, bewildered and mildly disgusted at the rather intimate display of affection. The thought quickly passed as realization struck him. They weren't talking about the child—oh no, that child certainly wasn't afraid of them. The way they spoke of…"getting rid" of "the boy" made it seem like they were referring to someone who wasn't in the room; someone who they've tricked and lured into their trap, like a predator does its prey; someone who they haven't known for long, and could toss aside at any given moment…

Someone like him.

Heart pounding in his chest, Seto began to make for the stairs, but a smooth, gentle voice stopped him in his tracks. "Seto?" He flinched, and without thinking, he turned around and was met with the piercing, crimson gaze of the tanned man. He immediately stuffed the key into the pocket of his pants, hoping that the man didn't notice. When he saw the man's brow crease slightly in confusion, he almost squeaked, but the man's expression soon relaxed; still, Seto stood stiffly and stayed alert.

"Seto, why are you up?" the man asked.

Seto searched for an excuse—a story believable enough to get him out of this mess—but when he opened his mouth, he found that nothing would come out. His eyes widened in panic and he visibly swallowed, nervous, fighting the urge to run Away. The man frowned. "Did you have a nightmare?" Seto contemplated the question, discovering that the excuse would suffice before nodding his head vigorously in response. The man hummed and his gaze sharpened, as if searching Seto's entire being for any lies; if he'd found any, he gave no indication that he did so. "Ah, I see," he mused. "Would you like Daddy to carry you back up and tuck you in?"

Seto was about to nod his head before realizing that this was his only chance to get the men away from the den—away from that door. He doubted that he was going to live to see another day, considering the conversation that they'd just had, so this was possibly his only chance left to escape—but how would he do that? His thoughts were interrupted when another voice, quiet and hushed, spoke. "What's wrong, Atem?"

Seto and the tanned man's—Atem's—eyes darted towards the door. There,

the pale man stood, the child drowsy and almost asleep in his arms. The black tank top that he wore exposed his taut stomach and the huge scar that ran across it; Seto had never asked where the scar came from, but he wasn't about to find out now. "Little Seto just had a nightmare, that's all," Atem replied. He then glanced at the child in the other's arms and chuckled. "I hope you plan to put Yugi to bed soon, Yami. If he falls asleep there, he's not going to let you go all night."

Yami laughed softly as a hand reached up to pet Yugi's hair affectionately. "You're right. I'd best hurry." At those words, a plan suddenly began to form in Seto's mind. His eyes fell on the child in Yami's arms—yes, he could work with this. "Can I help you put Yugi to bed, Mommy?" he asked. Yami turned to Seto, surprised at the offer: Seto had never really cared much for Yugi—if anything, he thought him a nuisance—so why the change of heart? 'Maybe I'm just overthinking this.' He shook away the thought and gave him a smile as he replied, "Alright, Seto, but as soon as he's tucked, it's off to bed. It's already

past your bedtime."

"Okay Mommy," Seto said as he nodded obediently. "Can I carry Yugi, then?" he asked, his eyes wide and hopeful. For a moment, Yami's smile almost faltered, but he nodded and gingerly placed Yugi in Seto's arms before leading him to Yugi's room with Atem following closely behind. Upon entering the nursery, Seto slowly made his way to the crib, eyeing the two men behind him as they went about their own business. Once he was sure that they weren't paying any attention to him, he turned his focus back to the sleepy child in his arms, whose hands were clutching tightly at Seto's shirt.

He couldn't leave Yugi here. Who knew what those men would do to him when he was gone? As annoying as he was, Yugi was still a child and deserved a normal life and a proper future; he deserved to be free of these men, and Seto would make sure of that. His decision made, Seto glanced at the men once more; they were too absorbed in whatever they were doing to notice his intentions. He quietly crept towards the exit of the room and, once he was out, grabbed onto the handle of the door and began to close it shut. However, the moment he touched it, a loud creak echoed through the room.

At once, Yami and Atem bolted up and turned towards the source, eyes widening at the sight of Seto running away with their child in his arms. They let out animalistic growls as furious, bloody crimson clashed with fearful, pale blue. At once, Yugi woke up and started to wail, further enraging the men. His mind clouded in a frenzy of panic, Seto slammed the door shut and braced it with a chair, ignoring the incandescent cries of the men, before sprinting away down the stairs and towards the den. It hadn't been long when the sound of splintering wood and an explosive thud met his ears. "Come out, come out,wherever you are…" Those words echoed through the house, laced with promises of pain,

punishment and unrelenting torture. Just as he entered the den, Seto smacked into a fleshy wall and reflexively looked up, involuntarily meeting Yami's ghastly gaze. He tried to back away, but soon became aware of Atem's menacing presence behind him.

"Mama! Dada!" Yugi wailed. Seto winced at the noise—it was much more animalistic than an average baby's cry—and heaved an exasperated groan. He glanced at both the men and curled his fingers around Yugi's throat. "Move," he said as Yugi let out a choked sob. Yami snarled as he bared his fangs, the very thought of his child in pain sending the mother into insanity. Reluctantly, he stepped to the side, giving Seto full access to the little door in the wall. "Now, release my son, Seto," he growled lowly. Seto narrowed his eyes at the man before uttering a single word: "No." In one swift movement, he slipped into the door, Yugi still in his arms, and slammed it shut, locking it with his key.

Yami was frozen in place, too shocked to comprehend what had just happened, while Atem rushed to open the door, only to yell out in pain the moment he touched the handle. His heart stopped for a moment in painful realization that Seto had their key and used it to lock the door shut, erecting a barrier that now separated their world from the mortal world—and Yugi. Atem fell to his knees, his eyes shifting between ruby and violet as he felt his connection with Yugi dissipate and disappear. He turned to Yami, knowing that he had felt the connection vanish too, and his eyes glazed over in a silent apology.

Yami collapsed to the ground, the devastation of losing his child—their child— suffocating his heart and tearing away at his soul. The pain flooding through him became too much, and he howled and sobbed as he crippled into a broken mess on the floor. Atem could only grit his teeth and listen. And wait. For so long…..he would wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

Seto Kaiba was pulled from his thoughts as his brothers chatted animatedly in the backseat of the car. The vehicle was loaded with boxes and bags while the rest of their belongings had been packed into the U-Haul truck behind them. Seto sighed, relieved: the further away they got from America and the past, the better. He stole a glance at his brothers in the backseat. Mokuba, the youngest of the three, had longish black hair and grey eyes—both of which he'd received from their neglectful mother.

Like Seto, he was intelligent and quite tall for his age, and he certainly looked like the eleven-year-old he was. Heba, on the other hand…Heba wasn't quite…normal. At seventeen, he looked as if he were just about to enter middle school when, in actuality, he would be turning eighteen in a few months. But that wasn't too strange, he supposed—what was really strange was his hair. Seto had discovered that, no matter what spray, dye or gel he used, he couldn't change Heba's crazy tricolored hairstyle. His eyes were also the unnatural shade of amethyst, and... Seto was just glad that the pupils were round.

Heba was a very intelligent and amicable person—Seto had no reservations about that—but he always seemed to be detached, in a way, and…unhappy—broken-hearted, even. He couldn't figure out why, but when Seto offered to take him to see a therapist, he vehemently refused, saying that whatever was making him upset could not be solved by "something as simple as therapy." Seto sighed. He had raised both Heba and Mokuba since their days at the orphanage, so of course there was a certain level of responsibility he felt for their well-being. Even after they had been taken in by that cruel, pathetic excuse for a human—Gozaburo Kaiba—he continued to look out for them, especially when their supposed guardian turned to drinks and the like in a fit of frustration and depression, swindling it all and running his business and everything else to the f*cking ground.

It wasn't surprising when he was found sprawled in his chair, unbreathing—a heart attack, they called it. It was Heba who had found him, a look of sheer terror on his face. Seto had arrived just in time to catch Heba right before he passed out, and the boy woke up a few minutes later with no recollection of what had happened. That entire incident was the reason why they were moving to Japan, where no one knew of them. "Are we there yet?" Mokuba suddenly asked. Seto grunted and took a sharp turn before abruptly braking in front of a house, uttering, "We're here." He turned off the engine and swiftly exited the car with Heba and Mokuba following suit, and began to unload their belongings from the vehicle and truck.

Mokuba rushed to help him while Heba made his way to the front of the house and fished out the keys to the house that Seto had given him earlier—Seto refused to let Heba do any heavy lifting in fear of damaging his small stature. Heba let out a small snort at the thought as he sorted through the numerous keys, deciding which ones would fit into the keyhole. It was on his third try when the door finally unlocked, and at once a blast of cold air swept past him, gently coaxing him into the abode. Heba's brow furrowed as the feelings of heartbreak and nostalgia surged through him all at once, and yet, as the door swung open, he couldn't help but feel as if a hole in his heart had finally closed up. Yes, after all these years, never knowing who his parents were but only knowing that he was different from everyone else, he finally felt like he belonged—that he was…home.

He stepped inside.

The first floor of the house was altogether regular, he thought: the walls were a plain white, though Heba supposed it was favorable compared to the overbearing, flamboyant bursts of colors that Gozaburo used to adore—used to. The floor of the entrance hall was a decorative array of tiles of all shapes and sizes, the kitchen, a regular arrangement of large, cool slabs of sandy marble. The living room wasn't much to look at, save for the newly-installed double-glazed window, the oriental rug—most likely of Indian origin—that lay in the center, and the convex floor lamp that had isolated itself in the corner.

Heba didn't look much further and climbed up the carpeted staircase.

It seemed to be the upper floors that were sparking his interest anyway. Upon reaching the second floor, he felt the rush of nostalgia surge through him once more, and found himself gravitating towards the room with the splintered door as his feet slid across the polished parquet flooring. The room was a nursery—meant for a child no older than three, he concluded. It was bare of any decor, save for the petite, old fashioned crib in the corner; the crib was quite worn-down on the sides, and it was only upon closer inspection that Heba was able to decipher the name inscribed on the frame. "Yugi." he read. The name was achingly familiar—it almost tore at his heart but he didn't know why, and it frustrated him.

His gaze fell upon a small bundle wrapped in bedsheets that lay in the crib. Assuming the worst, he picked it up, but was surprised and relieved to find that its contents were soft and squishy, much like a pillow. He unravelled it to find a family of three dolls—two adults and one child—and they all looked like him…well, less so for the one that was tanned. Nonetheless, it was quite obvious that the dolls shared similar traits with him—namely the peculiar hairstyle—which he found rather odd.

Did someone know he was coming? No, that was a stupid question to ask: the previous owners of the house had met him before, so of course someone knew; these dolls might've just been a gift of some sort to the new owners. But then, why did the dolls only look like him? What about Mokuba and Seto? And why were they in the crib of all places? His thoughts were swiftly pushed aside as he suddenly took notice of the intricate workmanship of the small, pale doll—the child. He could see the love and care that had been put into every cut and stitch of the craft, and there was no doubt that it was all done by hand: a work like this could only be the result of years of practice and experience—a mere machine would never be able to make something like this.

The other two, however… There wasn't something quite right about them: he could feel an aura of malice, hateful and vengeful, emanating from the them, and it was mildly unsettling. Heba shrugged the feeling off and took the dolls with him as he explored the rest of the house. There really wasn't much else to see except for a couple bathrooms and a few empty rooms that would probably be turned into their bedrooms. Knowing this, Heba quickly found a spacious room that was much cleaner than the others, and claimed it as his own.

The walls were painted a pastel blue that faded into a soft purple towards the skirting, much like the sky at sunset, just after the sun disappears into the horizon. The room was furnished with a cushioned window seat that sat by the paned aperture, and beside it stood a chest of drawers; a wide desk and swivel chair had been tucked into a corner along with an empty bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. Heba decided to go through the chest of drawers to check if anything was inside just for the sake of it; he was surprised to find a black, iron key attached to a silver chain in the first drawer he opened. He didn't think much of it when he picked it up, but when it began to heat up in his hand, his first instinct was to toss the key out of the window. Instead, he rushed to the sink in the bathroom and drenched it in cold water, hoping that the searing heat would go away quickly.

When he finally felt the heat dissipate after what had felt like hours, he turned off the tap and unfurled his hand, only to find a shiny, golden key with an eye in the middle in place of the black, iron one he was expecting. He blinked, unsure of what to think, and held the key closer to get a better look at it. It was heavier than it looked, so it was likely that it at least had some gold content in it, and it was attached to that same silver chain, which could have meant that this golden key was that same iron key from before…

…which made absolutely no sense.

Heba sighed and put the key around his neck: he'd find a place to leave it later, but for now, he wanted to keep an eye on it—though, there already was an eye on it. Heba snickered to himself at the thought and smiled as he faced the mirror. He had to admit that the key looked pretty good on him as a necklace, but he still felt odd. That eye… He wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but it was as if it was staring at him in the reflection…He felt strange asking himself this, but…

Was he being watched?


End file.
